


Weasley is My King

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Erotica, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-02
Updated: 2009-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10784514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione helps Ron celebrate his Quidditch victory.Seventh Year AU Fic.





	Weasley is My King

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

The Gryffindor common room was noisy and boisterous, filled with the babble of excited voices and the occasional hoots and cheers that seemed to erupt from time to time. Bottles of butterbeer were being passed around, and if one looked closely, they would see a few of the older students clutching glasses of amber liquid that was definitely _not_ butterbeer. 

This was the scene that welcomed Hermione as she stepped through the portrait hole. She looked around, trying to spot Ron, wanting desperately to apologize for not being able to congratulate and celebrate with him earlier. She didn’t have to look far, for at the center of all the hustle and bustle, sat the object of her affections, surrounded by a rowdy group of seventh year boys. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride as she took in the scene before her -- Ron, sitting tall and proud, sipping from a glass that much to Hermione’s annoyance was being refilled every two minutes or so. She watched as he brought the glass to his lips and took a generous gulp, watched the way the muscles in his arms flexed. When she saw the wetness of his lips, his full, lush lips, she felt the sudden desire to take the lower one between her teeth and bite it. _Hard._

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind; there would be time for that later. She made her way towards Ron with quick, purposeful strides. As she approached the noisy group, Ron looked up and flashed her a smile. Snaking her way in between Seamus and what appeared to be a _very_ drunk Dean, she finally reached him. Leaning down, she planted a quick kiss on his lips, after which he pulled her deftly into his lap. 

“Ron!” she chastised gently. 

“Doesn’t the star Keeper of the winning team at least get a congratulatory snog from his girlfriend?” he asked, pouting. 

“Not really, no,” she replied. 

A look of genuine disappointment played across his face. 

Leaning down, she brought her lips next to his ears and whispered, “The star Keeper of the winning team gets much _more_ than just a congratulatory snog.”

Ron felt a shiver go up his spine as he heard those words. ‘ _How did I get so lucky?’_   he thought as he pulled Hermione further into his lap, placing a kiss at the back of her neck. 

He didn’t reply to her comment, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. He was already starting to feel his cock react to her words, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

She smiled at his reaction. 

“You played amazingly today, love,” Hermione said, threading her hands through his hair and bringing her lips to his temple. “I was cheering for you….” 

“Mmmmm...” he murmured into her neck. “Well, while  I _am_ a brilliant Quidditch player, there are other ways in which I can get you to scream my name.”

“Is that so, Mr.Weasley?” she asked playfully, grinding herself just a little further into him. 

“Mione,” he groaned, snaking a hand up her thigh. 

“I think it’s time we retired, don’t you?” she whispered. 

Ron drained his glass in a single gulp and sat up quickly. 

“What’s this? Is our Head Girl dragging our best Keeper away for a private celebration?” Seamus called out as he watched the two depart. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and gripped Ron’s hand firmly, leading him away from the group. 

As she turned the handle to his room, she felt her stomach do a funny little flip. ‘ _Will he think I’m a tart?”_ she wondered and then quickly cleared her mind of those thoughts as she felt a strong arm snake around her waist. 

Ron leaned his back against the door and gripped Hermione firmly to him, her back pressing against his front. Sweeping her curls aside, he began to place kisses at the base of her spine and her shoulders while his hand began massaging her thighs and inching towards the hem of her skirt. 

Her head fell back with a moan as he brought his spare hand up to knead her breast through her shirt, and she arched back, feeling how aroused he was. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispered, “thinking about the things I want to do to you.” 

She let out a whimper as his wandering hands found the edge of her knickers. Ron could feel the heat coming from her center and it only aroused him more to know that she wanted him this much. 

“Ron, wait,” she panted, slightly out of breath. Taking a minute to collect herself, she turned to face him. “Get on the bed,” she ordered, pleased to see the bulge in his trousers grow at the sound of her voice. She knew he loved it when she ordered him around. What he didn’t know was that she liked _him_ to be in charge, loved it when he was rough with her. 

She turned to find him laying on the bed, shirt untucked and hands behind his head, clearly waiting for her to join him. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the door again. As her hands began to unbutton her shirt, she heard a faint “Whaa...” from Ron, which stopped abruptly as she slipped the shirt of her shoulders. 

“Are you _stripping_ for me? Fuck, love, that is so sexy,” he growled from behind. She hardly heard him, too preoccupied with the nervous thoughts fluttering in and out of her head, most of them involving Ron either ridiculing or being disgusted by her. 

Loosening her tie, she threw it aside, after which she unhooked her bra. This particular act received an appreciative growl from Ron. 

Nervous, trembling hands descended to her waist as she slowly slid the zipper on her skirt down. 

“You’re killing me, Hermione,” came Ron’s almost tortured voice.  “You have no idea how turned _on_ I am right now, please jus---" 

As her skirt slid down her thighs to pool at her feet, Ron quieted. 

For a second, Hermione stared straight at the door, eyes clenched shut, hands by her sides, waiting for him to say something, _anything._

Ron was speechless. Nothing in all his seventeen years, not even fighting against Voldemort or being attacked by those brains, had prepared him for the sight that beheld him. She had narrow shoulders and slender arms, her skin was pale and unmarked, her breasts were generous for her frame, and they peeped out of her slim silhouette. Though Ron had spent a great deal of time admiring Hermione and her various assets, today he didn’t give them a second glance. No, today, Ron’s eyes were glued to the scarlet silk that covered her deliciously round bum. They were in the style of shorts and covered only half of her arse. Emblazoned across the center were the words ‘ _Weasley is my King.’_

She turned back and glanced anxiously at him, doing that maddening thing she did and taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Realizing that she was waiting for some sort of response from him, he fairly leaped off the bed and strode purposefully toward her. Hooking his arm around her middle, he picked her up in one swift motion and threw her down on the bed. 

Placing his knees on either side of her, he loomed over her, like a lion ready to attack. She shivered seeing the predatory look in his eyes. Biting her lip again, she spoke, “So, you like it then? Because I wasn’t sure—I mean, I thought maybe you’d think it’s--” 

“Fucking sexy as hell is what it is,” he growled. She felt her knickers dampen at the sound of his words. Ron was looking at her, as if contemplating where to start. 

Suddenly, he brought his lips down to hers in a bruising, menacing kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth, scraping the back of her teeth before he sucked on her tongue, eliciting a long moan from her. 

He bit down on her neck, marking the pristine white skin. She loved it when he did that;, there was something so arousing about the knowledge that he wanted to mark her as his own, that he wanted her to _belong_ to him. Just thinking about it stirred something inside her and she gripped his arse, causing him to land on top of her. 

Sitting up, he pulled her so that she straddled him. His hands were on her breasts now, cupping their delicious weight, loving how they fit perfectly into his hands. The feeling of his Quidditch-roughened fingers on her skin made Hermione whimper and arch into him, feeling his erection pressed up against her stomach. 

Without warning, he took one dark nipple into his mouth, suckling it like a hungry infant, and she gasped, fisting his silky red locks in her hands and thrusting her breasts further into his mouth. 

“You like that?” 

All she could do was nod feverishly, silently hoping that he would continue. 

“Tell me.” 

Wetness pooled between her thighs as she heard his commanding words. Nothing turned her on more than when he lost control and got rough with her. 

“Y-yes,” she moaned. “Gods, I love it, Ron. Don’t stop.” 

But it seemed he had other plans. Flipping her onto her stomach, he placed open wet kisses across her shoulders and her back, between her shoulder blades and the arch of her back. Finally when he reached the curve of her arse, he ran his palm along the words that had been his undoing. Suddenly, he wasn’t in the mood for foreplay, all he wanted to do was _fuck_ her hard and fast, to pound into her again and again, to make her come so hard that she wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week. 

“Get on your knees.” 

He was surprised at how calm he sounded, because his cock was straining uncomfortably in his trousers, and he had what had to be the biggest hard-on _ever._

As she got onto her knees, he didn’t wait for her to settle, didn’t whisper any soothing words. There were times when they made love and then there were times when they just _fucked_ , and right now was definitely going to be a fuck. 

Gripping her hips, he thrust into her roughly, immersing himself into her wet heat, feeling her walls clench around his thick, long cock. She moaned loudly, arching back into him, words of encouragement falling from her lips. 

Then, without warning, he pulled out completely. She whimpered at the loss. 

“ _Please_ ,”she whimpered at the loss. 

“Tell me…tell me that I’m your king.” 

“Gods yes, you, only you, Ron. You are my king, always you, Ron...” she babbled, desperate for him to plunge into her again. 

With that, he thrust violently back into her, causing her to almost lose her stance.  “Too hard?” he asked, fearing that maybe he was taking it too far. 

“Yes.” 

He began to pull out— 

“But I like it.”

Fuck. The things that came out of her mouth would kill him one day. 

He slammed wildly into her again and again while she screamed and moaned his name. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight Mione..it’s like you were made for me. Made to be fucked by me,” he growled. 

The crudeness of his words excited her more than he would ever know. He continued to thrust in and out of her until he felt that familiar tightening in his stomach, and suddenly his thrusts became less refined, shallower, and sloppier. He knew Hermione was close, too, from the desperate way in which she was pushing herself back against him. 

Willing himself to hold on for just a bit longer, he pulled himself completely out of her, causing Hermione to let out a sob at the loss. 

“Ron, what…please…I’m right there. Please.” 

“Tell me. Say it again.” 

A small part of him was afraid that he had taken it too far and that she would turn around and slap him. 

“Ron, you are my _king._ I belong to you. Just please, oh god, make me come, _please._ I’ll say whatever you want.” 

Apparently not. Her words sent a surge of energy through him, and he quickly flipped them over so that she was straddling him. Stilling her wildly bucking hips, he began to thrust up into her, knowing that she just needed that little bit more until she came undone. 

Sure enough, after another few thrusts, he felt that maddening feeling of her tight walls clenching around him, as she leaned over so that her head was buried in the crook of his neck, letting out a noise, which if he didn’t know better, sounded quite close to her sob. 

Clutching the small of her back, he quickened his pace, and it was only seconds later that he came, shouting out a string of expletives and biting the soft, fragrant skin of her shoulder. 

For a while they just lay there, motionless, his large hand wrapped around the middle of her back. Slowly, sensual even in these post-coital moments, she rolled of him, curling up into his side. Her small hand began to roam the planes of his chest, fisting the soft, downy hair on his chest. 

“That was…” 

“Yeah.” 

“God, Mione, the things that you do to me.” 

Propping herself on one arm, she turned to him. 

“Really? I thought that maybe you might have thought that it was too…” 

“I think that from what just took place, you know that I fucking _loved_ it.” 

She blushed shyly, and pulling the covers up consciously, snuggled into his side once more. 

He reached out to the nightstand next to him and fumbled around for a cigarette. It was a habit that he and Harry had picked up during the Hunt. 

“Ron, you really shouldn’t,” she said, slipping it quietly from his fingers and taking a short, neat drag before putting it out. 

“Oh, _I_ shouldn’t? What about you? Is the Head Girl exempted from these rules and not the Head Boy?” he asked teasingly. 

Looking him squarely in the eye, she said, “I think it’s already been established that you like it when I’m naughty.” 

Her hand began snaking southwards as he felt his arousal return. 

‘ _Yes,’_  he thought. ‘ _She will be the death of me one day.’_


End file.
